Paperback
by WingsofRain
Summary: / ash & may / They haven't seen each other for twelve years, but when they finally do everything is still the same: he traded his heart for the sun, and she traded hers for a dream. Part I & Part II. Winner of the July 2012 Advanceshipping contest "Lights" theme.
1. Part I: Before

**Hello again everyone! Happy summer!**

**Ah, I always take way too long to write my stories. Hence the awkward breaks between postings. I guess I need to work on that.**

**A (late) entry in the July Advanceshipping Fanfiction Contest on Bulbagarden: theme - _Lights._**

**Split into two chapters, 1) _Before_ and 2) _After_ for your viewing pleasure. Hopefully it's easier on the eyes. :)**

******Disclaimer: I do not own Pokemon. And also, warning: one sided Contestshipping, because I love internal conflict.**

**Lots of symbolism in this piece; I have planned it down to the very last _color_. And yes, I abused the usage of semicolons.**

**Sort of an offset of magical realism. This chapter is really the prelude of the fic; I promise the next one is a lot more interesting ;) **

**As always, I hope you enjoy :)**

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_** paperback: prelude.**_

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**I****. **

She remembers sleeping beneath the trees. She remembers dreaming. She remembers being happy.

She remembers the ocean, the salty-sweet mists and the waves embedded with turquoise. She remembers a lavender sky, a setting sun_. Her heart now swims alone._

She remembers singing to the jaded hills and the thistle coated clouds. She remembers his laughter, which reminded her of cornsilk and wheat fields. _I'll take you there someday, _she wanted him to say.

She especially remembers his eyes, wide and bright when he smiled, full of promise and holding the innocence of all the world. She remembers his hands too, firm, square hands with weathered olive skin. _I love your hands—they are what made me._

(She remembers roses too.)

But what she remembers most is the silence of each early morning, when the sun rises one ribbon at a time and the whole world is at peace. She remembers staring at his youthful face and marveling _(just like that first day), _marveling at how thisboy, this silly, beautiful boy, had changed her life _so much_.

She remembers sighing, she remembers smiling. The candy pink clouds make no complaint to her authenticity and absorb all the sound around her like cotton—all except for the beating of her heart, because the heart is never silent.

**. . . . .**

_Seven years later, she doesn't remember anything at all._

**II**

**[She had lost her heart, once.]**

It's almost midnight. The sky has dressed herself for the occasion, traditional silk skirts the color of forget-me-nots. The moon hangs overhead like a cold, shiny button, pensively quiet.

It's a lovely backdrop, May thinks—almost like a canvas sewn together by messy cloud stitches. In her haste, the sky has scattered silver rhinestone stars in an attempt to mask the imperfections. Charming, really—the night has always been impervious to criticisms anyway.

Peaceful it may be, certainly, but May feels anything but content. She hadn't really acknowledged it at first, but in the silence of her own thoughts, she's beginning to realize—she just feels so_ empty_. She had mistaken it for homesickness at first, (traveling would do that to you) but it took only a few minutes before she discerned that it definitely was _not_—the feeling was too strong for that. Confused, she lays on her sleeping bag with growing unease, shifting her attention from the patchwork trees, the small puddle of moonlight by her feet, the sound of the ocean, miles away—until she knows for sure that the emptiness is coming from _inside _of her, the pinpoint of her chest, shifted to the left.

It's almost strange; she flutters her hand over her skin, and the stark silence of an empty chest tells her what she fails to believe. Her heart seems to have fled—where it could have gone, she has no idea. Perhaps it had been gone for quite some time now, and she just hasn't noticed? These things are gradual though, she'll admit—there are many reasons (_excuses, _she would remind herself later) why it might have taken her so long to notice. She's been quite preoccupied for the past few years of her life now.

May frowns and ponders her heart's absence at length, worrying at her bottom lip. Had she lost it? Misplaced it? Or simply just left it behind? May pillows her head on her arms and tries to remember, _anything. _Yet all she can conjure up is an overwhelming sense of closure—just last week, she had won the Hoenn Grand Festival, having returned to claim the prestigious Ribbon Cup seven years after her defeat the first time. She was truly a renowned coordinator now; after winning her first Grand Festival in Johto six years prior, May had traveled across the world, from Johto to Sinnoh then Kanto and finally Hoenn once more, tracing her old footsteps to where her pokemon journey had first begun. From there, with three Ribbon Cups safely in her possession, she traveled across the region to Lilycove City and won the last Cup; this one was arguably the most valuable to her. It had taken years and years of blood, sweat and tears, but now here it was—the symbol of her dreams.

_So what now? _May finds herself asking (a question she had wanted to avoid). Since she was ten years old, her only dream was to become top coordinator, to see the world and experience all it had to offer. Now, at seventeen, she was left dream-less; wandering lost in the world as big as the sea. In retrospect, it wasn't that she was ungrateful, no far from it. It was just that now, May realized that she wasn'tsure what she _wanted_ anymore.

That must be it then, May finally decides, returning the hand to her chest. She had left her heart behind on the Hoenn Grand Festival stage, left it there with her dreams as she traded them in for the elusive Ribbon Cup. For the first time since, May finds herself truly missing that familiar sound _thump, thump, thump_—it had always been a sort of constant in her life, a steady reminder of _who_ she was and _why_ she was and what she was meant to be.

_(where have you gone?)_

She doesn't know, and that scares her. May curls up on her side, biting her lip. After careful consideration, she takes a shaky breath and reaches deep into her chest, searching the dark crevices left and right—but she comes up with nothing. _As expected_, she thinks. Nevertheless, she retracts her hand and stares at it, her skin pale white under the moon. Maybe, if she just thinks hard enough, she can pretend that the emptiness between her fingers is really a heart—_her _heart.

And so she does just that; she imagines, she pretends—fingers curled in, she cups the air between her hands and just watches it—beating there.

_(everything has gone silent)_

**III.**

A few days later, May runs into Drew at the Pacifidlog Town Pokemon Center.

She's merely training on a whim now, slowly making her way home to Petalburg. Her pokemon seem to know something's off with their trainer—more than once May had accidentally commanded Beautifly to use Fire Spin or Munchlax to use Aerial Ace or Venusaur to use Ice Shard—something strange like that. She sat down in the sand with her head between her knees after that, and all her pokemon had gathered around her, making the isolated sandbar they were training on seem a little less lonely. May had waved off their concerns though, smiling weakly at her beloved companions; this just wasn't fair to them. They had worked so hard to help May achieve her dream, and now she was just letting them down with her melancholy.

She can't help it though—her heart's just not into it (_ironic as it may be_, May thinks to herself with a bitter laugh).

The sun is just beginning to set on the small archipelago—flocks of Wingull and Pelipper dot the amber orange sky, casting the surrounding ocean aglow with gold foam and saffron waves. The beginnings of stars are mapping out the path of night, and the lights of the small sea village are beginning to flicker off. The Pokemon Center shines bright as ever though, and May sits at one of the Formica-topped tables in the courtyard. Her pokemon are inside for checkups—Nurse Joy had promised it wouldn't take long. May had only sent her a small smile and excused herself outside, and now she sits with her legs crossed on a plastic chair, a half-empty glass of lemonade cradled between her palms. She should be heading back in soon—the salty ocean breeze is starting to cool for the night.

"Thinking about something important there, May?"

She jumps at the sound of her name, nearly spilling her drink. Seven years she had traveled with that sound; she'd know that voice anywhere.

"_Drew?_"

She turns to face him, and the green haired coordinator is smirking, one hand on his hip. "Yeah, that's me," he says, and tosses his hair out of his face. His Roserade is out of its pokeball again—pressed close to Drew's side, the bouquet pokemon hums in amusement at May's incredulous expression.

"What are you doing here?" May asks, eyes wide as if in shock. Drew chuckles quietly, and the smirk softens just a bit. "I could ask you the same thing," he counters simply. "I thought you were going home."

May turns away from him, hair obscuring half of her face. "Yeah, I was."

She doesn't go on to say more, so Drew just sighs and gives a blithe shrug. "All right, I was just wondering. I saw your pokemon with Nurse Joy, so I thought you might still be training." His eyes are piercing now as they look over her pallid face. "Though, you would wonder what a top coordinator like yourself would still need to train for."

There's a hint of bitterness in his voice, and May doesn't blame him. Looking up, she tries unsuccessfully to form words. "Look Drew, I..."

He puts a hand up to cut her off. "I don't need to hear it May. You deserved that Hoenn Ribbon Cup—but that doesn't mean that I didn't want it too." He looks away for a bit to pat Roserade on the head, and the grass pokemon leans in toward his touch. "Don't let your head get _too _inflated though," he says, voice warmer now from teasing. _Safe territory, _May thinks to herself. "Don't forget that I still beat you in the Sinnoh Grand Festival three years ago." There's a note of vindictive pride in those words, whether he means it to be there or not.

May rolls her blue eyes, but feels a bit more like herself again. (She doesn't remind him that she beat him in the Kanto Grand Festival a year later—it would be pointless anyway).

"I'll try my best," she says with playful acid. The green haired coordinator smiles for real this time, eyes crinkling. A moment of silence passes between them, until Drew breaks it again.

"So, why Pacifidlog?" he asks, raising his arms to gesture at the peaceful ocean town. "You could have taken a ferry directly to Slateport you know, if you wanted to get back to Petalburg."

It's May's turn to shrug now, and suddenly she's completely engrossed in her lemonade glass. The ice has long melted and clear drops of condensation have beaded on the sides. "I dunno...I just, needed to stop by I guess. Too many memories to leave it behind."

Drew nods slowly, as if her explanation makes sense. "Oh, I remember. This iswhere you won your fifth ribbon for your first Grand Festival, right?"

May hums in neutral agreement, looking out toward the sea. _But that's not why, _she wants to say_. That's not it at all._

"_This has been your dream. Pacifidlog is the last contest, and your last chance to get into the Grand Festival right?"_

"_Yeah, but—"_

"_Then you really ought to go for it!"_

_(his hands are warm on my shoulders. I can't breathe.)_

May shakes her head, and the memory flees.

Drew suddenly sighs, folding his arms across his chest. May looks at him curiously, but the green haired coordinator just stares further out into the darkening horizon.

"It really _has _been a long time, hasn't it?" he asks quietly, his voice uncharacteristically soft. "We've come a long way in seven years; it's almost hard to imagine that we're still the same people."

May shifts in her chair, suddenly uncomfortable. "I...suppose you're right..."

Drew looks back, green eyes still distant, but the smirk is slowly returning. "Well, I mean, _some _of us have changed more than others." He chuckles a bit, the teasing air returning to his face.

May tries to laugh in reply, but the sound comes out all wrong. Drew stops and gauges her expression, as if suddenly realizing something.

"...You're suffering from post-coordinator depression, aren't you?"

May blinks at the unfamiliar term. "_Huh_?"

Drew rolls his eyes and unfolds his arms. "Post Coordinator Depression," he says a lot slower, enunciating each word as if talking to a child. May scowls, but Drew cuts her off before she can say anything. "Solidad told me about it once. Apparently, some coordinators—and trainers too, I guess—experience this after they've won a huge victory of some kind. Instead of feeling accomplished, they feel alone and lost...probably because they feel like they have nothing left to look forward to in life."

May's eyes widen in understanding.

"Did...did you feel it before then?" she asks him carefully. Drew looks up at the sky in thought, shrugging.

"I guess so. After the Sinnoh Grand Festival, I was holding the Ribbon Cup and suddenly just felt so..._disappointed_. As if achieving my goal wasn't as amazing as I had expected it to be."

May nods in agreement, catching on. "And did you feel like part of your chest was missing too? Like, empty? As if your heart was missing or something?"

She immediately regrets saying anything when Drew stops talking and looks at her oddly.

"Uhm...no...not really...why would I feel like that?"

May curses herself for letting her tongue run out of her control. Instantly, she tries to backtrack, waving off Drew's confusion.

"Ah, n-nothing, it's nothing. Forget I said anything."

The green haired coordinator nods slowly, unconvinced but unwilling to push the question further. "O-kay. Anyway, post coordinator depression. Sounds like you've got it pretty bad."

Blue eyes troubled, May looks away so Drew can't see the frailty of her lie. "Yeah, that sounds right. Post coordinator depression. That must be it."

_(is this still what you want?)_

The two coordinators fall silent. The cool waves rise and fall on the sandy shores—the sound explores their fixation, probing at old wounds.

"_How about it May?"_

_She bites her lip, looks into his eyes. She remembers another boy, long ago, whose eyes did not remind her of the earth, but the sun. _

_He clears his throat again, hesitantly, rose outstretched into neutral territory, and she nods once before taking his hand._

"_Okay."_

The Pokemon Center doors suddenly slide open, and Nurse Joy sticks her head out of the lobby, fluorescent light from inside the building spilling into the darkening twilight.

"Drew?" she calls out gently. "Your pokemon are ready now, if you want to start heading out again."

The green haired coordinator nods politely. "Thanks Nurse Joy." As she heads back in, Drew turns back towards May with a wink. "I have to go I guess—I have a lot of ground to cover. Need to catch a ferry back to Lilycove before returning to LaRousse City."

May smiles slightly at her long time rival. "Okay. Stay safe then—it was...nice seeing you." She holds out a hand to shake. Drew accepts it firmly, but holds on a bit too long, searching May's eyes intently with his own. Slightly uncomfortable, May leans away, and only then does Drew let go, an unnervingly shrewd smile on his face.

_(she's always hated that; when he looks like he knows something that she doesn't.)_

"Take care," she says halfheartedly. "You too Roserade." The bouquet pokemon smiles a little in reply, turning to follow its trainer, who has already begun walking towards the Pokemon Center.

He's halfway there when Drew suddenly stops and turns back, "Oh, and one more thing!"

May turns back around and stares dubiously at her rival. Drew grins and reaches into his pocket, extracting something before throwing it back towards May. She catches it without thinking; really, at this point, the rose shouldn't surprise her anymore.

"Something to remember me by," he says audaciously, flipping his hair once more before disappearing between the sliding doors. May stares after him, twirling the delicate, thorny stem between her fingers.

"Thanks, I guess," she whispers, knowing that he can no longer hear her.

_(some things never change.)_

It's completely dark now. The stars are glittering like a string of pearls in a black ocean. May contemplates the red rose for another second before laying it beside her lemonade glass on the table, tilting her head up towards the sky instead.

"_It was way back in Terracotta town. Ever since I went off by myself, it's been my good luck charm."_

May smiles, but the gesture is tinged with sadness. She remembers another night like tonight—just as lovely, but different somehow. Looking around to make sure no one else is watching, May gently reaches into her shirt to extract a jewel-encrusted chain, hanging from it a halved pink ribbon, worn with age but still gleaming bright.

_("you still have it, don't you?")_

She can't stop them now; the memories break through her control and pull her under. Never has the tide been so bittersweet. Too tired to try and reign them back in, May succumbs, letting them wash over her skin, one by one—if she's going to drown, she might as well enjoy it.

Eventually though, she realizes that she's still breathing—her lungs are protesting and her chest feeling as empty as ever, but it's nothing she can't handle. May opens her eyes (when did she close them?) and looks back up at the sky, the stars—they had known all her secrets, once upon a time.

_Seven years later, do you have an answer for me now?_

The night stays as silent as ever. Perhaps, in the past, this wouldn't have bothered her. But now, it just makes May feel even more alone.

**IV.**

She should have expected to run into a sort of festival as she entered Slateport City.

The streets are filled with jovial people, families, children, friends, all meandering through the open air market with smiles and laughter abound. The cloudless blue sky stretches above the commotion, polished with friendly sunlight and the promise of the harvest season. There are booths lined up everywhere, with cheerful vendors selling everything from ripe produce to candies, fresh seaweed to glass vases. There must be an annual event going on, or a grand opening of some sort—whatever it is, the city has adopted an infectiously merry atmosphere that just can't be ignored.

A little awestruck, May wanders the fair alone, her hands tucked in her pockets. It's nice, she thinks. It reminds her of _home_.

**. . . . .**

The day passes quickly, and it's already late sunset by the time the festival begins to mellow out. May finally reaches the city's edge after a long day of meandering through the streets. In her left hand she holds a bag of Ganlon berry sweets, half-empty. In her right hand, she holds a bright yellow balloon, floating gently beside her.

It's surprisingly peaceful now that the sun has gone down. May takes a deep breath of the salty ocean harbor, and the smell carries wistful memories from what seemed to be forever ago. This is where she had entered her first Pokemon contest, way back when she was still young and naïve and silly. This was also the site of her first Grand Festival, so long ago now that the memory seems airbrushed with a layer of rosy powder.

May gives a tart laugh. Maybe she still _does _have a heart, hidden somewhere, protected in its naïve stupidity. Or maybe it's just that her mind had learned to be just as capricious.

She finally reaches the city arch where a line of cars are preparing to depart, and it's only when she tosses her empty bag of sweets into a trash receptacle that she suddenly notices the yellow balloon still tangled in her fingers, the ball of helium bouncing happily along behind her. May hums lightly in thought, staring up at the floating sphere, then to the sky, darkened by streaks of red.

_(tell me, little one, why do you want to be free?)_

Impulsively, May slowly unties the string, holding on for a second longer before letting go. From there, she watches the balloon float away from her outstretched hand, up, up, up until there's nothing left but a dot in the sky.

**V. **

What May has always missed about Hoenn is how gently and subtly it eases into autumn.

_True, it's mostly tropical year long_, she corrects herself, _with buttercup summers and temperate springs. _But when fall and winter comes along, the region settles into a cooler sort of warmth, like a stream bathed in goldenrod sun. It's hard to explain, but May has missed it nevertheless.

Petalburg isn't very far now. She'll be home within a few days if she keeps up the pace.

It has been a quiet midmorning, white sunlight filtering in through the trees and flooding the small clearing where May had set up camp overnight. The grass is spotted tortoiseshell green from the shadows cast by the leaves, and there are millions of shy white daisies stitched into the verdant carpet.

Humming in slight amusement, May reaches for her backpack, rubbing leftover sleep off her eyelashes. Her dreams had been vacant last night—she can't remember exactly what had happened, but all she knows is that it was very cold, very dark, and very quiet. The silence had been unnerving.

The half smile that had been on her mouth smoothes into a thin line.

Her hand delves deeper into her backpack, rummaging around for a bottle of water and something to eat. But, as she reaches for a bar of chocolate, her hand brushes something...soft. Looking in, she suddenly realizes: it's Drew's rose.

With careful hands, May takes the wilted flower from inside the bag. Two days had taken a toll on the flower, whose petals are now a starved dark red.

Curiously, May pinches one of the petals between her thumb and forefinger, velvet in the center but slightly dry at the edges now, and tugs it off before letting it drop into the grass.

_(he loves me, he loves me not)_

Within minutes, May carefully dismembers the rest of the rose, one petal at a time, creating a lopsided halo in the daisy-covered grass. Dark angels robed in heavenly white.

_Like velvet little corpses_, she thinks with slight morbid fascination.

_(you tell me.)_

Presently, a light breeze drifts through the clearing, rustling the trees and the grass with soft, invisible fingers. The leftover rose petals lift slightly in the air before falling back to earth. The daisies however, young and bright with life, all seem to release their delicate petals into the wind's embrace; at once, the clearing is filled with tiny white parachutes, and May can almost imagine them calling out—"_goodbye!" "goodbye!" "goodbye!"_

And, in the midst of their farewells, May smiles and whispers something too—a farewell of her own.

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**[1] "...when the sun rises one ribbon at a time..." - A direct reference to Emily Dickinson's poem _"A Day." _Fitting, or punny?**

**[2] "...seven years later, do you have an answer for me now?" - Alludes to May's wish in _Jirachi Wishmaker. _Also a reference to my last fanfic, _Starcrossed._**

**[3] "...bright yellow balloon..." - Yellow is light. It symbolizes happiness and joy, but can also symbolize cowardness. Looks like May is letting something (or someone?) go. Brave or not? I can't say. Interestingly enough, a yellow ribbon also symbolizes waiting love, and was worn by women as a symbol of hope for men to come home from war. Lots of ribbons popping up.**

******[4] "...jewel encrusted chain..." - A reference to a previous fic of mine, _Halves Make a Whole._**

**[5] I will come back to daisy symbolism later.**

**[6] If you're utterly confused, here is the timeline thus far (I've sticked to canon as much as I could): at 10 years old, May began her pokemon journey. At ****11, she entered the Hoenn Grand Festival (her first one) and lost. At 12 she traveled with Ash to Kanto and lost the Kanto Grand Festival. At 13 she left the group for Johto and wins the Johto Grand Festival. At 14 she loses the Sinnoh Grand Festival to Drew. At 15 she wins the Kanto Grand Festival after trying once more. At 16 she tries the Sinnoh Festival again and wins. And finally, at 17, she returns to Hoenn and wins her last Ribbon Cup.**

**Okay, onto the next chapter? Sorry this one was short. I promise the next one is absurdly long.**

**—Wings of Rain**


	2. Part II: After

**Hello my friends! Come to finish the story? I hope so :)**

**Again, I don't own Pokemon.**

**Edit:**** Thank you _sfss_ for your kind review! I always feel bad for anonymous reviewers because I can't PM you my gratitude ;_;**

**Anyway, enjoy the last chapter :)**

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**after.**

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**VI. ****[_Eight years later_]**

"...another one? But I just did an interview last week!"

"I know May, I know, but we need a new article if we want to keep this newspaper in circulation! Trust me, pokemon success stories are all the rage right now—they'll just eat it up!"

May groans, massaging the bridge of her nose. "...Okay, fine. Who did you say this was again?"

She doesn't need to see him to know that her manager is smiling. "Ah, I don't remember his name...but he's some famous retired Pokemon trainer that a friend of mine met a few years back. He's one of those veterans, you know? Been in his pokemon journey since he was ten."

May almost rolls her eyes. "Yes, and so have I, if you'd be so kind to remember."

Her manager laughs, but it's a kind one, if not a bit patronizing. "Yes, I know, I know, top coordinator in regions around the world, I know. So you must understand then, right? This guy will have so many stories to tell—this interview could be the breakthrough our newspaper needs! Come on, what do you say?"

She hesitates, thinking it through before finally surrendering. "...All right, fine. Where did you say this trainer lives again?"

There's a moment of cautious silence on the other side of the line until her manager finally says, "...Hoenn."

May's hand tightens on the phone cord. "Oh..."

Her manager is quick to backtrack, refusing to lose this battle. "I mean, I do know that you lived there for most of your life before you began traveling, right? Think about how nice it would be to return home and see your family! There's nothing...wrong with that, is there?"

Her hand relaxes a bit, but her knuckles are still strained. "Yeah...it's...it's not a problem. I was just surprised, that's all." _I moved away for a reason, _May wants to explain. _There are too many memories there for me to—_

"Brilliant!" her manager exclaims. "All right, so it's settled then, right? I'll book you into a hotel once you're there...oh, and I'll get you the ferry ticket and the address so you can be on your way tomorrow."

May sighs one more time and goes to hang up, putting some effort in to make her voice teasing. "Okay, sounds good. You know, only I would agree to do something so last minute. You should be grateful."

Her manager laughs, low and gravelly. "Oh don't worry, I am. Thanks again May, I'm counting on you—!"

She hangs up the phone before he can say anything else.

_(I'm finally going home.)_

**. . . . .**

The next day, May is on her way to Mauville City.

She sits with her hands folded primly on her lap, pencil behind her ear, notebook on the seat. Her tired blue eyes stare out the window and into the blurring landscape, her thin body rattling with the hardy old train. She had left her apartment in Kanto this morning, arriving by ferry at Petalburg first to say hello to her family. Both Max and Norman had been absent unfortunately, too busy working at the Petalburg gym to say hello _(surprise, surprise, _May had thought with a cheerlessly fond smile).

Caroline had still been Caroline though, and after the hugs and squeals were out of the way, May had indulged her mother with a quiet lunch, and really, she had not been too far gone to have forgotten her own voracious appetite. Caroline had laughed of course, all butterflies and sunshine, _same old May, _she had sighed. And only then did May feel her eyes sting with tears for the first time, because she had truly missed her family, and over the years she had realized that their love was a love that could never be replaced.

Unfortunately, time is never gracious to such moments, and soon May is rushing out the door, brandishing a train ticket that would take her to Mauville. It is one of those dull, overcast days where all potential sunlight is trapped behind a curtain of thick gray clouds, struggling through. The train continues on though, unperturbed as it plows across the steel tracks.

And so May waits apathetically by the window seat, watching the familiar Hoenn scenery go by, and the nostalgia there is so great that it threatens to makes her throat ache. Five years ago she moved away from this place, taking up a job as a journalist and news anchor for a small agency in Kanto. It was a satisfying job, an ideal settlement for a retired coordinator, but May knows that her feelings run way deeper than that. Even after all this time, though she would like to say that she has long since forgotten, the truth of the matter is that whenever she gets in front of that camera, microphone in hand, she can't help but remember memories from years ago: _May's Expeditions, _she had called herself back then, fingers held up like a fake camera window in front of her face. Her friends would laugh beside her, especially _him_, and there would be adventure in her heart, life in her eyes.

(_That_ is the place she belongs to, she knows; _that _is the time she belongs in, and even after all these years her mind has never left—)

May sighs, resting her cheek on her wrist. She gets to travel a lot for the job, and it keeps her plenty busy, filling the void that the end of her contest career had left behind. It helps her forget, she insists to herself, it helps her move on.

The train suddenly rolls to a stop, and the conductor's automated voice echoes from the speaker. _We have arrived in Mauville City. Thank you for traveling with us and we hope you have a great day._

Shaking her head, May tucks her notebook under her arm and shuffles out onto the platform. Eight years later and her heart is as silent as ever.

**. . . . .**

_629 Aster Drive. _

Matching the address engraved on the mailbox to the one scrawled on her slip of paper, May stops in front of a modest looking house and works to put on a professional smile.

The front yard is a small patch of green bordered by a short picket fence, the white paint chipping in some places and patched up in others. The stone walls of the house are covered by a spider-web of ivy, and there is an old ash tree next to the driveway. Two old bikes, one red, one blue, lie propped up against each other on the single garage door. What must have originally been brown shutters have faded to a light beige color, and the front door is a pale rendition of a once vibrant yellow.

_He must have children_, May thinks to herself as she notices the haphazardly parked bikes, making her way up the pathway to the retired Pokemon trainer's front door. Adjusting her cream blazer over her plum colored dress, she wastes no more time and raps sharply on the door; _tap, tap, tap._

There's the sound of movement within the house; someone stumbling down the stairs then tripping over something in his haste to get to the door. A simple bolt is unlocked and the door swings open, and May holds out her hand, practiced speech already on her tongue.

"Hi, it's nice to meet you, I'm—-"

The rest of the sentence dies in her throat.

"...oh...my..._god—_"

Two wide eyes, lit golden by the weak sunlight that had at once pushed through the overcast, stare directly into her frozen face.

"_May?"_

She nearly drops her notebook at the sound of her name coming from his lips. It's impossible, it's _incredible_; even _Pikachu's _still there on his shoulder, amber eyes just as wide, god _dammit_.

"-—it's _you_," she murmurs, and suddenly, she really _is _home.

**VII. **

He eventually invites her inside, and they sit facing each other across a wooden coffee table, a pitcher of water sitting stagnant in the center like a proverbial barrier of some kind. It's surreal—they've spoken once or twice, yet the silence isn't strange or unfamiliar at all; instead, it's filled with questions, it's filled with longing, it's filled with a strange sort of _hope_.

May nods her head in thanks as Ash pours her a bit of water, and he clears his throat cautiously before speaking.

"I had no idea you were working in the media industry now."

Even his voice has changed; the words are smoother, tone sensibly deeper, yet it still holds a lilt of energetic youth. His broad hands surround his drinking glass and it suddenly seems ten times more fragile.

_(His eyes have not changed at all)_

May tries to find her voice. "...And I had no idea you had retired."

Ash chuckles, and the warmth immediately brightens the living room. "Well, I don't think you could say _retired. _I'm still in my twenties you know; I've just moved on from competing in Pokemon tournaments."

May makes a slight noise of understanding, then falls silent. It's not that she doesn't know _what_ to say; it's just that she has _too much_ to say.

_(where have you been, all this time?)_

Ash clears his throat again, looking down at his hands. "Anyway, I never got to say this, but congratulations...you've become a top coordinator in regions around the world, haven't you? That's amazing."

His words are so awkwardly sincere that May can't even muster a _thank you_. Instead, she asks, "How...how do you know that?"

He looks at her strangely, as if confused why she would ask such an obvious question. "I watched all your Grand Festivals on television," he says, jerking a thumb toward the flat screen on the adjacent wall. "I'm sorry I wasn't there to see them in person. You must have been incredible."

May's eyes widen, and she suddenly feels sick. "Y-you...you did?"

Ash nods, and there is a familiar glint in his golden eyes. "Of course. I'm so proud of you; you've come a long way since the first day I met you."

May swallows and nods shakily. "Yes, we both have."

Ash grins at that, and May realizes that it isn't as hard to smile back as she thought it would be.

(_just like old times)_

**. . . . .**

It takes some soul-searching, but soon May is able to put on her professional façade again, whipping out her notebook and ink pen to start the interview. Her boss wanted the article by nightfall so he could get it into their newspaper's upcoming circulation.

Ash acquiesces to May's questions without pause. As if he had answered similar questions many times before, he goes through the entire interview with an easy smile, yet his voice implies only polite detachment and solid facts, and many times May has to pause in order to let it all sink in.

It's just so not _him_—the diplomacy of his words seem so fake and indifferent in comparison to his younger self, lacking the transparent passion and courage that she had once so admired. He has definitely matured, having smoothed out his raw edges in the past twelve years, but May's not so sure she likes it. Perhaps it _was_ all a ruse though; a few times, May notices a catch in his voice, or a slight sparkle in his eyes. His younger self is not lost; he has just buried it deep within his heart.

Why Ash has learnt to hide such feelings, May cannot tell. She mourns the loss of his once-open heart, so willing and excited to live and explore. As the interview goes on, May has to stop herself from asking more personal questions; no, she does not care what he placed in the tournament, she just wants to know how he _felt _when he did. She wants to go back and relive all those moments with him, all those lost moments where she should have been there to support him. She wants to relive the old Ash, and she's scrambling to find where he has so skillfully hidden him.

After she tucks the notebook away though, something about Ash's smile changes—it seems to become more familiar, more pure, if not just for a second. As per custom, May reaches out to shake his hand—but unlike any other client she has ever interviewed, when Ash shakes her hand, it's as if a lifetime of memories transcend between them, connecting them, reminding them of all that once was.

_(A different lifetime)_

May releases shakily, entranced by the nostalgia in his smile. With difficulty, she manages to whisper a small goodbye, and, without waiting for his answer, she clutches her notebook to her chest and flees.

**VIII.**

In the safety of her hotel room, May finally lets herself go, her head spinning from the sheer turn of events. There are the beginnings of tears, inexplicable tears she cannot explain welling in her eyes, blurring the generic bedspread and pale walls of the room. She curses herself for being such a coward, a weakling, too easily swayed by the heart stitched in bold red on her sleeve.

And for what? Why should she run away from the very person she has longed to see all these years? What is this dizzying emotion of such loss and joy and guilt and betrayal? May rubs furiously at her eyes and curses again for being so easily affected by the memories she has fought so long to suppress. There was a reason she moved away, there was a reason she wanted forget—to protect herself from any more hurt.

And yet, even as she berates herself, pacing around the room in delicious frustration, May realizes that underneath all these feelings, she has never felt so _happy_. She had thought that their lives would never cross again. But here he was, ironically in the same place where she had started off twelve years ago. He had changed certainly, but he was _here_, bright and glorious, and that made all the difference.

May finally stops pacing and sits resolutely at her laptop, pulling out Ash's questionnaire and quickly typing it up to send to her boss. As she writes, she relives the afternoon in a different light, remembering instead his smiles and gestures and twinkling eyes and "_I'm so proud of you"..._

She sends off the email and closes the laptop. In the silence of the room that follows, May suddenly realizes; the silence is not empty, no, not anymore. Color rises in her cheeks and burns beneath her skin, and with shaking fingers she places her hand across her chest—

And there it is, the familiar _thump, thump, thump _of her heart, never silenced.

She's not sure how, but suddenly she just _knows_; in that glorious moment, May realizes that she had never left her heart behind some_where_.

She had left it with some_one._

**IX.**

In the days that follow, May doesn't leave Hoenn. She can't, not now, not again.

**X.**

It is finally on a warm, fair afternoon that May musters up the courage to invite Ash out to lunch.

Though she has lived in Kanto for quite some time now, she still remembers many of the places she used to love when she still lived in Hoenn; it was with a nostalgic heart that she asked Ash to join her at Café Kina at 2:30—it had been one of her favorite places to eat back when Norman would take her and Max to Mauville City for vacations.

So now she sits, waiting by the window booth with a teapot and two porcelain cups as company, one filled with white tea and the other empty. It has started to rain outside, a warm, sun-shiny drizzle that washes the sidewalks with puddles the color of Riesling. May sips her beverage and peers out of the dewy glass, searching the crowd for a familiar face, a familiar smile.

It's almost frustrating that she isn't as excited as she should be; instead, the mere thought of meeting Ash again makes her painfully nervous, very different from how she felt during their interview a few days ago. All the shock has worn off now, and, having regained a somewhat clearer mind, May notices that a cautious barrier has once again intruded into her newly revived heart, ready to intervene. It was like being roused from an amnesic dream—May suddenly remembers why she had tried so hard to escape any memory of Ash, why she had even moved away from her home to ensure a fresh start to a new life.

_(she was afraid it would happen again)_

The door of the café suddenly opens, and a silvery bell jingles to announce the arrival of a new customer. May immediately turns around in her seat and there he is; closing a red umbrella and shaking the sunlit raindrops from the plastic, black hair gently mussed, clothed in a simple white dress-shirt and stone washed jeans—Ash Ketchum, retired Pokemon champion.

Curiously enough, Pikachu is no where to be seen, but May reminds herself that it's been 12 years since their last real encounter—many things have changed since then, image included. She watches carefully as Ash sends the maitre d' a polite nod, scanning the rest of the café with his golden eyes. He maneuvers slowly around the booths, searching all the while, and, upon finally spotting May waiting by the window seat, his lips suddenly break into a bright, luminous smile—and May's heart, rediscovered and pounding vivaciously in her chest, goes positively insane.

His gaze doesn't waver until he is seated directly across from her in the booth. Then, he places his umbrella next to him on the seat, props his elbows onto the vinyl tablecloth, slowly folds his hands under his chin, and tilts his head to one side with a crooked quirk of his lips.

"Hey," he says finally.

"Hi," May whispers back, then feels her skin flushing as she notes how breathless her voice sounds. Stuttering a bit, she quickly snatches the teapot next to her and pours the steaming tea into the empty cup she had reserved, sliding it over to Ash. "T-thanks for joining me today," she says setting down the pot and running a hand self consciously through her brown hair, braided into a simple plait. "I-I mean, I know it was sort of last minute, but I'm going to be in town for a while and just thought we could catch up or something—"

"Don't mention it," Ash says quietly, taking the cup graciously. May dares to cast a look at his face, and she notices with surprise that the fluidity in his motions has been stilted somewhat, marred by...nervousness? Caution?

Well, at least this put them on equal footing. May takes a deep breath and gathers herself, inwardly scolding the heart now singing wildly in her chest, making itself known in the most obnoxious way possible.

"It...it's really been a long time, hasn't it?" she asks softly, and she lets her eyes slide to half-mast.

Ash is quiet for a long moment, and his gaze is far away when he replies.

"Yeah. It has. It really has."

Outside, the rain keeps falling.

**. . . . .**

A waitress soon comes by to refill their tea and offer little snacks and desserts, similar to a Chinese _dim sum _atmosphere. May has always loved Café Kina for this reason; there were always so many foods to try, and while reaching across the table to steal a bite, the entire place seemed more friendly. It wasn't just two old friends talking over a meal—it was _sharing._

And, if she did remember correctly, the one thing she and Ash indisputably shared was a love for food.

Taking another unnecessary deep breath, May keeps her gaze on Ash as they exchange semi-companionable small talk, waiting for the waitress to return with their food. When their conversation steers once again to weather though, May accepts that they really aren't getting anywhere, so she chalks it up to nerves and asks the first burning question herself.

"...So, twelve years, huh? Where have you been, all this time?"

She winces as soon as the words are out of her mouth: they sound like an accusation.

Ash however, looks more surprised by the fact that she had broken their (fascinating) conversation about the rain with such candor. He pauses for a moment, as if chewing the question like gum, before answering.

"It's hard to say, really. I've done many things. Explored new regions, won competitions. I've bought a home. I've visited Gyms and I've continued to train. I'm just more stationary, that's all. I've settled down." His eyes are wide and honest, like they should be.

May bites her lip. _Settled down huh? _She suddenly remembers the shiny pair of bikes in his driveway. The image makes her throat burn.

"How is she then?" May asks, and is almost taken aback by the bitterness saturated in her own voice. Ash however, forever naïve, even in adulthood, raises an eyebrow questionably at her.

"Who's she?" he asks with what sounds like genuine confusion. "My pokemon?"

May almost wants to roll her eyes. _No, idiot. Stupid, beautiful idiot. _"Ah...your wife I mean. Do I know her?"

Ash looks confused for a moment longer before his expression lights up in understanding and suddenly he's dissolving with mirth; before long, he's laughing, a deep, honest laugh that immobilizes him for a few seconds. From across the table, May feels her expression darken.

"What's so funny?" she asks, terribly lost. Ash shakes his head and stifles his laughter, though his words are still laced with amusement.

"A _wife? _You thought I was _married?_" he asked, as if the very notion was something to laugh at. "May, I'm 26 years old. It's way too early for me to be settled down like _that._"

May pales, but is quick to defend her rapidly dissolving claim, "W-well, when I visited your house a few days ago I saw two bikes in the front yard and I just assumed that you already had children or something..."

Ash shakes his head once more, smiling. "No, don't be ridiculous. I salvaged those bikes from a garage sale a few weeks back—I dunno, for nostalgia purposes? I have a car and all, but I'm not a huge fan of driving. Guess it's because of all the walking I did back then during my travels. Hard to shake the habit I suppose."

Upon explanation, May nods in understanding, but then curses herself for jumping to such a silly conclusion so quickly. As a strange sense of relief floods through her, May's subconscious suddenly dredges up a twelve year old memory—when Ash had accidentally fried her bike upon their first meeting in Littleroot town. Well, it was Pikachu who electrocuted it technically, but at the time she had blamed it on Ash. However, May can't help but also remember that same night, when she had crept into the back room of Professor Birch's laboratory and watched Ash and Pikachu embrace—the curious warmth that had filled her heart at the sight was unforgettable.

That had been the turning point. From that point onward, her life had changed irrevocably, all because of that boy, all because of that moment. In a span of barely a day he had become her guiding light—she had taken the first step into the great unknown and, from that point forward, never once looked back.

Lost in her thoughts, May lifts her gaze from where her finger had been tracing patterns on the tablecloth and finally looks at Ash, _really _looks at him, and for a second, Ash really seems to understand. He reaches across the table and pats her hand gently—at once, May's nerves are on fire and her senses become hyper aware. Her eyes flicker to his in a silent question, but Ash's gaze is hopelessly dense; the action is nothing more than a platonic motion to him.

Unwittingly, May feels her heart sink. It doesn't surprise her that he misinterprets the sudden disappointment in her expression too. "Hey, it's fine. I probably would have jumped to the same conclusion. It _is_ kind of weird for a guy like me to have two random bikes, huh? I guess I'm just a sucker for nostalgic things." He shrugs, removes his hand. May slides her own off the table.

"Oh, but that reminds me!" Ash suddenly says, unfazed, as he digs into his jean pocket for something. Before long he emerges with a familiar keepsake clutched between his fingers—the pink and white ribbon has lost its frill, but the golden center still shines like the sun.

"Do you still have this?" he asks hopefully, copying her exact words from that moonlit night during the Wallace Cup, so many years ago. "All this time, and I still haven't forgotten it."

May feels her stomach drop as she lifts a hand to her neck—her fingers search for the chain, the other half of the shared medal, but all she gets is empty space. She had stopped wearing her Terracotta ribbon a long time ago.

Glancing up into Ash's expectant, golden eyes, she suddenly feels like a traitor. "No, I...I'm sorry," she whispers quietly, and she can't bear to see Ash's expression when his hand drops and he lets out a sad little "Oh."

The waitress comes back at that moment, and May's almost grateful for the distraction; unwillingly, they have arrived to a disconnect, and the momentary rift has left an awkward emptiness between them.

Mercifully, the waitress pays no heed to their silence and begins to set the table with cute little dishes of food. Desperately trying to fill the awkward gap, May snatches a slice of honey-drizzled peach cake while at the same time pushes a plate of sugar-coated fried dough in Ash's direction. Catching on, Ash reaches across the table for the teapot and refills their porcelain cups, and for the next few minutes, they stuff the silence with the sounds of their chewing and tinkling cutlery.

Eventually however, the little plates are all but cleared, and even the rain has stopped—the silence becomes overbearing, pressing down upon them. May knows that Ash is thinking the same thing; none of them want to open the floodgate, in fear of re-opening wounds and creating new ones. What had caused their fall-out? Where had those last twelve years disappeared to? How had they severed their connection without even knowing it?

Deciding that the process was much like ripping off a Band-aid, May slams her teacup down onto the table and faces Ash directly; it's hurting her to not have answers. It's hurting her that he no longer seems to _care_.

"You disappeared for twelve years Ash," she says, her voice low. "In fact, you and I stopped talking after I left for Johto." She searches his face, so different from what she remembers, and wishes she could just have it all back. "I mean, we did see each other at the Wallace Cup I guess, which was nice because I got to see you and Brock again, and for a while I thought we were okay..." A lump is starting to form in her throat. She pushes it down forcefully. "But then we just stopped talking! No phone calls, no visits, nothing! I mean, granted, I was busy with my contests, and you were busy with your Leagues, I _know_...but I thought we had something. I thought we had something that couldn't be broken." May looks out the window, at the rain glistening on the gray window pane. "Don't you...don't you remember Forina? Jirachi? The Tree of Beginning? What about Terracotta town, or Donphan Island, or...or _Manaphy_..."

Her voice breaks on the last word, but the she's more stubborn than that. Each memory is like a stab to the heart—they push through the iron gates of her conscience, breaking the lock that she hasn't dared open for years. "Do any of these things _matter _to you?" she insists, imploring Ash for an answer. "You...you _made _me Ash. When you came into my life that first day in Littleroot town, I gave up everything I had ever known to follow you...but you know what? It was worth it! I mean...I know we were young. I _know _that we were naïve, foolish and young, but seriously? Those years traveling with you are probably the best memories I have." May inhales deeply, lets it go. "Better than when I won my first Grand Festival. Better than when I became _the_ top coordinator. I know that probably makes my life sound so stupid and pathetic. But it's true! Leaving you for Johto...that was one of the hardest things I've ever done."

Ash doesn't say anything—his eyes are wide, his mouth is slightly agape, but the rest of his body is shock still. Too far along now, May shakes her head.

"I told you back then that I had left because I wanted to find myself. But really? I think I was just trying to find a way not to _depend_ on you. You had become such an important part of my life...I mean, you were probably one of my first _real _friends." May pauses, wringing her hands. "But...after I left, and I came back during the Wallace Cup..." The lump returns, grating against her throat. "...I-I saw you and Dawn and just felt..._replaced_. And after that, in Unova? I saw your competitions on T.V, even though I told myself not to look. I watched as you made your way to the top, and I watched you celebrate with your new friends..."

May stops, and when she looks up her eyes have changed. Solidified. "I knew then that I wasn't the only one. I knew that, while you climbed to the top with new friends at every corner, I stayed back as silly, dependent little May, thinking that I was somehow more special than everyone else. But to me, you _were _special. Achieving my dream didn't mean as much without you, because you _gave _me that dream." She sighs one more time, resting her chin on her hand and gazing out the window. "It was like the way of the stars. You were here for one moment, and then you were gone."

Having exhausted herself with the monologue, May drops her head onto her folded arms. "That's why I gave up you know," she says quietly, almost defeated. "That's why I stopped trying to contact you. I knew that I had to become independent. I knew I had to stop pining after someone who would never be mine." She lifts her head slightly, remembering the yellow balloon floating away into the sky. "I moved away from home. I got a job. I gave up pokemon." She stares straight into Ash's gaze, sky blue eyes lost. "I let you go."

He's sitting there so still, so close—but then finally Ash's expression changes, his jaw suddenly stressed, stiff with what was probably the beginnings of ire.

"No. You had already let me go, May," he whispers, and for the first time there is an audible pain in his words. "When you left for Johto. _That's _when you let me go."

May looks up sharply, her features riddled with bewilderment. Ash glares at his hands. "When you left...I didn't know what to feel. I will admit that I was a dense idiot—hell, I still am a dense idiot—but May, you _did _mean something to me. I matured with you, May. I will admit that with all my heart. You, without even knowing it, had shown me that life wasn't all about Pokemon. You showed me that it wasn't about _winning_, but it was about _learning._"

He looks up and his eyes are unwavering. "Maybe I am simple minded. Maybe I am dense. But when you left, something in me changed." He pats his heart lightly as he speaks. "I didn't say anything back then because I cared about you. I really wanted you to find a way. I wanted you to be _happy_." His fists clench. "But still...how could you have left, just like that? You and I...we had stumbled through the dark forests together for so long. We had _grown_ together. Wasn't that more important?"

Ash pauses, backtracking for a moment. "Okay. I...I guess I understand. You left for a reason, and I respect that. But then I needed to move on too! I made a lot of friends, I _did_. And, if that's the case, then yes. Yes, you're right, you _aren't_ the only important friend to me." His forehead wrinkles, depressing the skin between his eyes. "But _you _wrote a chapter into my life that I _know_ I can't live without."

Now it's May's turn to be shocked. Overwhelmed by his words, May begins to tremble, her hands shaking. Ash looks into her face kindly. "I remember everything we did together May. I really do. Those memories are things that can never be replaced."

"Ash..." May whispers, voice hoarse.

He doesn't let her finish, suddenly tearing his eyes away, voice troubled. "But...I think the moment I really stopped talking to you was after watching one of your Grand Festivals on T.V." His gaze flicker quickly to hers. "I forget which one it was...I had been keeping tabs on you as I moved from Pokemon Center to Pokemon Center. It was an early one, I'm sure, probably after Johto. You had lost in one of the rounds, and as always they show the coordinator walking off stage. You looked really upset...and just before the camera panned away, I saw someone hand you a rose. You seemed to pause for a moment, staring at the flower, and then you hugged him like he was some saving grace."

May freezes, automatically catching on. It had been her first Sinnoh Grand Festival. Solidad, Drew and Harley had been traveling with her at the time, just like they had in Johto. She had lost in a particularly tough battle during one of the early rounds. Drew, who had been watching her from the sidelines, had comforted her afterwards, before going on to win the actual Festival himself. She had been so upset at the time that Drew's arms had been entirely welcome. And then...

"_How about it May?"_

_He holds out the rose, waiting for an answer. May stares into his eyes; they are a lovely shade of green. Much more real than gold. _

"_Okay," she says, taking the flower, and something in her heart flutters as he leans down to kiss her on the cheek. _

_To this day she isn't sure what that flutter meant._

"Oh no," May whispers unintentionally, and the words are strong enough to penetrate even Ash's naivety.

He gives her a long look, as if pondering whether or not to ask, before steeling himself and letting the words clear a path of their own. "Well? Did you? _Are _you?"

May licks her lips nervously, unable to meet Ash's burning gaze. "Yes...and no," she whispers, toying with the fraying end of her braid. "I dated him. Drew. And...for a while I thought I loved him."

She can hear Ash sucking in a breath—she looks up and sees that his golden eyes are pained, glittering with confusion. _The sun should never be pained_, she thinks to herself.

"I...I see," Ash says quietly, forcing a chuckle. His lips are turned down and he suddenly looks like a lost traveler in a sea of memories. May drums her fingers on the table nervously.

"I really thought...that maybe he was the one. I did. I keep telling myself that I _did_. But...eventually...he just—"

She stops, not sure how to continue. Ash looks up and his expression is suddenly filled with a twisted hope. May sends him a crippled smile.

"Let's just say that roses have lied to me," she says, nearly spitting the words. "So no. We're, Drew and I, that is, we're just friends now. I broke up with him a long time ago."

Ash nods in understanding, but he still looks uneasy. May stays confused for a moment before realizing—-

"And you? I know you don't have a wife, but are you...?" she lets the question trail off, chuckling darkly as she realizes just how _scared _they both are at admitting their past relationships to each other. Have they grown so far apart? Or was it a different reason entirely?

Ash scratches the back of his head guiltily. "I...I've done things I'm not proud of," he says at last. "In the past twelve years, I've also won many competitions, and with those victories come fame. You must understand, there were girls everywhere, fawning after me. Old friends too, and...I think I damaged a lot of relationships." He looks up at May, almost pleadingly. "I wish I could go back and fix my mistakes." He sighs, as if releasing a burden, before tilting his head back, cushioned against the seat. "That's why I'm "retired" now, you see. Right after I announced that, I bought a house out here, in Hoenn. It just felt...safe. I think it's because it reminded me of a time in my life when I was still pure. Young. Happy. I was on an island in the middle of the world and for a long while, it was just me and my Pokemon." Ash returns his gaze to May, a small smile playing on his lips. "I think...I think it was here that I realized it too—I stood staring at the wide blue sky and realized that I no longer _wanted _to be famous. I wanted to be me. Just plain old Ash. No hedonism, no fans, no pressure, no cameras. My old dream of becoming the greatest pokemon master? Completely wrong. I just wanted to be a nomadic traveler again, stopping in Pokemon Centers and trampling through muddy woods. I just wanted to be free."

Lips curved into a full smile now, Ash rests his cheek in his hand. "I learned that from you too, I think," he says, almost teasingly. "I probably just didn't realize it back then."

May blushes, the heat crawling under her skin and blossoming peach pink. Then, suddenly, out of no where, she begins to laugh. A loud, high, breathless laugh. She laughs at herself. She laughs at him. She laughs at their confessions. She laughs at _them._

Finally, when her hysterical euphoria has calmed, May looks over to see Ash chuckling too, though there is also warm concern mixed into the mirth. She rubs at her eyes, spilling over with crazy tears, and gratefully accepts the napkin Ash eventually hands to her.

"We're both messes, aren't we?" he asks, golden eyes twinkling. May nods, gulping in deep breaths.

"A lot has changed," she says, and the words have never rung clearer.

Ash smiles. Slowly, he reaches across the table, seemingly debating for a moment before gently placing his fingers under May's chin, tilting it up so their eyes meet. The residual laughter bubbling in May's chest automatically halts as her heart automatically screeches to a standstill, screaming _something is happening, something is happening!_

"...And a lot hasn't," he whispers. After another second of searching her face, Ash then lets go and reaches for his teacup, sipping the now-lukewarm beverage. May exhales in a breathy rush.

"I guess not," she answers belatedly.

Shyly, Ash nods, flashing a bright, embarrassed grin, and it's such a youthful, _Ash-like_ grin that May suddenly realizes: they really _haven't_ changed. They've certainly trekked through many different paths in the past twelve years, but in the end, they always return to square one: traveling down _this_ road—_their _road—so many times now that it's as simple as breathing. He's like a book to her, with a worn out spine, pages folded, comfortably heavy in her palms. It's something she can hold on to, these shared memories, and the weight actually _means_ something; it reminds her of everything she's done, everything she's learned, everything she's achieved.

_(It's been a long time, but she already knows all the words by heart.)_

There's no need for bookmarks here; the page numbers are simple (she could flip to them with her eyes closed.) So, smiling, May shuts her eyes for a moment and does just that.

Across the table, Ash watches quietly, his lips curving up at the sides, hidden behind his teacup. "What are you doing?" he asks when curiosity finally gets the best of him, and when he speaks the words are swimming in a mouthful of white tea.

May shakes her head and focuses her eyes back on him. They're bright and alive and everything she's ever imagined them to be.

"Remembering," she whispers softly, as if it explains everything.

And somehow, it does just that.

**XI.**

Nothing and everything had changed that day.

After finally paying for their food and walking out into the fresh, post-rain breeze, May looked up resolutely into Ash's face and hugged him, right there in front of Café Kina. After a moment of surprise, Ash had hugged her back, and they sort of sank into each other's warmth before releasing and going their separate ways: Ash to his house and May to her hotel.

It was only later, sitting alone on her neatly made bed, that May came to regret not seizing the chance, not being brave enough to close that last few inches between them and kissing him right then and there. She almost feels like she's missed an opportunity, that perfect moment when his face had been so vulnerable from innocence and nostalgia, and his lips had been so close...

With a growl of frustration, May tosses her pillow across the room, hearing it thud disappointingly against the beige walls. After all this time and she's _still _a coward.

**XII.**

A week later, she cannot seem to draw it out any longer.

After ambling through Hoenn and revisiting old haunts for the past seven days, May's boss gives her a call and tells her that her vacation time is up; reality is setting back in, and she has to come home. She receives the call with neither surprise nor expectation—but, at this point, May's starting to question: where exactly _was _home? She thinks back to her modest apartment flat in Kanto, with all her Pokemon waiting for her to return. She thinks about her parent's home, firmly put in Petalburg City. She thinks about Ash, with his quaint little house in the woods of Mauville. She thinks about her job, her responsibility. She thinks about her heart.

Sighing to herself, May sends her boss an ambiguous answering message, then tosses her empty suitcase onto the bed and begins to pack everything away. As she meticulously folds her clothes, she wonders idly about Ash's day. She wonders if he'd miss her. She wonders if it would be appropriate to say goodbye.

The hotel phone by her bed suddenly rings, shrilly interrupting her thoughts. Looks like her boss didn't like her ambiguous message after all.

Sighing to herself, May walks over and lifts the device from its cradle. "Hello?" she greets, nestling the phone between her ear and shoulder as she folds another sweater.

What she doesn't expect to hear is the calm, methodical voice of the hotel receptionist. "Hi, Ms. May? You have someone waiting for you in the lobby, thank you."

Her eyes widen, and she nearly drops her sweater. "A visitor?" she asks, but the receptionist has already hung up.

Completely forgoing her bag, May snatches her purse from the bed and is out the door in no time, taking the stairs because she simply has no patience for the elevator. As she steps onto the marbled floors of the hotel lobby however, she sees no one—the area is empty save for a few friends talking around the bar. Confused, and a little embarrassed, she walks slowly out the sliding doors, squinting as the white blue sky comes into view—-

And there he is. Helmet on, another one tucked under his arm. There are two bikes next to him, one red, one blue—the same ones she had seen in his driveway so many days ago. Spikes of his raven black hair are sticking out of the helmet as the light wind ruffles his shirt and jacket.

Stunned, May walks forward slowly, as if unable to believe what she's seeing. Ash is smiling his silly, wonderful smile, and his gaze is as warm as liquid gold. He gestures to the red bike, which has a basket attached to it filled with beautiful white daisies.

"What...what is all this?" May asks at last, her voice filled with incredulous delight. Her hands grip the shiny handlebars as she speaks, and suddenly it feels like she's ten years old all over again.

Ash chuckles, flashing brilliant white teeth, before tossing a helmet to May and mounting the blue bike in one quick stride.

"Come on," he says, looking over his shoulder. "We're going for a ride."

**XIII.**

When they finally reach their destination, the sky is already fading into a muted sunset orange, turning the lake water into a shimmering pool of amber light.

"Do you remember this place?" Ash asks as soon as they crest the hill, taking off his helmet so he can properly see the view.

May's eyes are bright, flushed with recognition and surprise. "You...you've brought me here to _Lake May_?" she asks, her voice breathless from enthusiasm. _I can't believe it. He actually remembers._

Ash smiles and nods. "Most beautiful lake in the world, right?" he says, quoting her from over twelve years ago. "This is where we saw the Volbeats and the Illumise do their dance, back when we still traveled with Brock and Max."

"Yes, yes, of course I remember," May says quickly, looking out toward the beautiful landscape as if reliving the moment. "How could I ever forget?"

Ash laughs and taps her bike. "Okay, well, if we want to get good seats before the May Festival starts, we're going to have to hurry. Come on, let's get down this hill."

They mount their bikes once more and ride all the way to the benches; many people are already waiting there, some on picnic blankets, others sprawled on the dewy grass—families, couples and Pokemon trainers alike all staring up at the sky and waiting for the romantic lighted display.

"I wonder if Romeo and Juliet still work here," May muses as they park their bikes to the side and find a place to sit. The lake water washes against the grassy banks in a soothing beat. "It sure took a lot of work to get them to confess to each other back then."

"They're probably here," Ash says, squinting out toward the dock. A Volbeat trainer is standing on the jutted wood, waving a glowing baton to direct his Pokemon in a last minute practice session. "I don't think that's him though. Maybe we'll see them when the show starts."

May hums, leaning back in the grass. "It's a dance of love," she whispers to no one in particular, watching the premature glow of the Volbeat and Illumise as they prepare for the night. She smiles and turns around to reach for the coarse bouquet of daisies that Ash had put into her bike basket.

"So, what exactly were these flowers for?" she asks shyly, stroking the white petals. She glances over at Ash and sees that he's blushing—_the look suits him, _May thinks to herself.

"Ah...well, I mean, you did say something about roses lying to you, right?" he says with an adorably sheepish grin. "So...I just figured I would make it up to you..."

May laughs, plucking one of the daisies and putting it behind her ear. "Thank you so much," she whispers. "They're beautiful."

Ash's blush darkens, and he looks back toward the sky. The sun's vanishing glow suffuses behind the opaque clouds, turning them into golden lanterns amongst streaks of purple and pink. Ash sighs contentedly. "I've missed this kind of thing," he whispers, voice colored with longing.

May nods in agreement, but she doesn't speak, unwilling to break the perfect moment. Her heart is singing and laughing in her chest, and she realizes the words couldn't be truer: the night was perfect. He was perfect. They were perfect.

The Volbeat trainer finally turns around and bows to his mellow audience, whose gracious claps join the lake in its soundtrack. He raises his baton to the sky, and the Volbeats follow automatically, illuminating the sky with their radiant glow.

The audience murmurs with appreciation, and at the moment May turns her head slightly to look at Ash—to her surprise, his gaze is focused directly on her. His golden eyes are mirrors to the world, shimmering with promise.

She's not scared anymore—with kind, gentle fingers, she cups his face, and, in the perfect timing of twelve wistful years, fits their lips together in a kiss.

They stay that way for one endless second, moving carefully with one another like two weary travelers finally finding their way home. Before long though, Ash breaks contact, opening his eyes and leaning his forehead against May's, his cheeks a lovely shade of pink.

"The Volbeats?" he asks at length, his voice breathless, as if it serves as some sort of explanation.

May shakes her head, passing a thumb over his lips. "No silly," she smiles, voice warm. "The dance has just begun."

**. . . . .**

_And there it is, the paperback of our lives._

* * *

**I do apologize for all the word vomit. I get carried away sometimes. **

**Hopefully, the ending wasn't terribly sappy, and the prose wasn't terribly boring. Exploring the older!Ash and older!May dynamic was interesting, to say the least :)**

**[1] The roman numeral numbering throughout the story is meant to symbolize chapters; the story _is _titled "Paperback," so I decided to make the fanfic more...book-like.**

******[2] The overwhelming theme of this? Ash _is _the light. Often times in this fic, May refers to Ash as the 'sun' while she refers to Drew as the 'earth.' The reason why she took a chance in dating Drew is because she felt that his presence would ground her; she couldn't afford floating in the clouds all day, trying to reach the sun, because she felt that Ash was too good for her, and he was untouchable, like the sun. And like the yellow balloon.**

**[3] I took the liberty of putting as many Hoenn cities/shout-outs in this fanfic because Pokemon Sapphire/Ruby/Emerald used to be my favorite game(s), and I know the map like the back of my hand. If you're curious, Lake May is located between Mauville City and Fallarbor Town.**

******[4] "...fingers held up like a fake camera window in front of her face..." - I do hope you realize I'm referring to 'May's Expeditions' here. I figured that after May finished her Contest Coordinator career, she might want to be a journalist/newscaster, seeing how much she enjoyed traveling and doing her little Expeditions routine.**

******[5] The number 12 is the symbol for completion.**

******[6] "...similar to Chinese _dim sum_..." - _Dim sum _is the style of Chinese cooking that involves making small bite sized portions of food that are served on little rolling carts, so you can choose what you want to try. It is becoming more popular in Japan. _Dim sum_ literally means "to touch the heart." Which Ash and May desperately needed.**

******[7] Many times in this fanfic I used the color purple (Mauville city = 'purple village,' Aster is a purple flower, etc.) This is because I see the color of Advanceshipping as purple: with Ash as blue and May as red, combining to make such a color. Fittingly, purple represents happiness, mourning, and royalty (they _are _the King and Queen of the Sea...)**

******[8] Symbolism of the daisy: "Generally speaking, daisies indicate innocence, purity, and gentleness on behalf of both the giver and the receiver. A white daisy in particular represents shared feelings of affection." I found this a very accurate description of Advanceshipping. Also, to quote: "_The rose has but a summer reign/The daisy never dies" _~James Montgomery, "The Daisy." I felt that this quote basically verified our "Roses die, but ribbons last forever" phrase, making Ash's daisies the perfect antithesis to Drew's roses. **

******[9] The last scene with the Volbeats and Lake May are references to the episode _Love at First Flight_. Hopefully you've watched that episode or else you will be (or are) very confused. This is my main connection back to the theme, "Lights."**

**...I'm sure there are plenty more symbolic goodies inside this piece, so I'll let you find them on your own. My one wish is that, whenever you read a story of mine, you learn something new :) Hopefully it doesn't bore you too much...**

**I wish everyone else who participated in this contest good luck! I hope you enjoyed reading this piece :)**

**Until next time!**

**Kisses,**

**—Wings of Rain**


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